


Small Interruptions

by Elfbert



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the Kink Meme -</p><p>"Lestrade's little kid comes into the bedroom and sees Mycroft/Lestrade happening (hopefully under some sheets). Now Daddy has to embarassedly explain what his child just walked in on. He'll probably make something up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Interruptions

"Shi…Myc…fuck…" Lestrade panted, reaching a hand up to wrap around Mycroft's neck, drag him down for a kiss.

Mycroft smiled, an slowed his movements just a touch, pushing his cock all the way into Lestrade, as far as he possibly could, before dipping his head and kissing Lestrade, just a teasing brush of lips, tongue and breath.

"Don't stop, Christ, don't stop," Lestrade managed.

Mycroft smiled, the muscles in his arms shaking slightly as he withdrew, almost all the way, before sliding back into the tight heat of Lestrade's body with a slight grunt, feeling the gentle rebound as Lestrade's hips were forced back a little, and the encouraging shove of heels on his lower back, where Lestrade's legs were wrapped around him.

He fell into a rhythm – just a little bit slower than he knew Lestrade would like, watching as Lestrade's fist gripped the bed sheet.

"C'mon, Mycroft," Lestrade pleaded, and his spare hand drifted toward his own erection, currently untouched, and leaving a wet patch of pre-cum on his belly.

"Ah ah," Mycroft gently admonished, getting his knees underneath himself a little more, taking some of the weight off his arms and grabbing Lestrade's wrists. "That's my job," he smiled.

"Bastard," Lestrade said, breathlessly, but with a smile, and then groaned as Mycroft thrust all the way in again, adding a little twist to his hips at the last moment. "Please, just fuck me, fuck me, and don't fucking stop," he said, crossing his ankles behind Mycroft and holding them together, tightly.

Mycroft spread his own legs, knees apart for balance, hooked his arms under Lestrade's legs, and picked up the pace, looking down at Lestrade's body, then further down, watching as his cock slid into the velvet grip of Lestrade's arse, hearing the soft sounds of utter satisfaction from his lover. He finally relented, reaching for Lestrade's own erection, when he felt the sudden change in Lestrade.

"Shi…Myc, stop, stop," Lestrade said, attempting to free his legs and escape Mycroft's hold.

Mycroft's first thought was cramp – an inevitable risk of this position. But then he noted the change of lighting in the room, the streak of brightness splashed over the ceiling and down the wall. He pulled his arms out from their entanglement, freeing Lestrade's legs.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, hey, what's up?" Lestrade, Mycroft noticed, somehow managed to slide off his cock and grab enough bed sheet to cover both of them as he rolled away and reach out to the young child, now just inside the bedroom door.

Mycroft tucked the sheet around himself, trying to get his breath back.

"What're you and Mycroft doing?" the small voice asked.

"Uh, nothing, Tiger, what's up, a bad dream? Or don't you feel well?"

"Bad dream. You were doing something, you weren't sleeping."

Lestrade swung his legs out of bed, still careful to keep the sheet wrapped around his hips. "Yeah, Mycroft was tickling me, that's all. Like when I tickle you on the sofa, and you try to make me stop, we were just…wrestling," he threw a glance back at Mycroft, who smiled and nodded, and wondered why he could lie to world leaders, but Scott Lestrade reduced him to a fumbling wreck, whenever he thought the absolute truth wasn't what a five year old should hear.

Lestrade glanced around the room, spotting his jeans from the night before and reaching out for them. "Come on, we'll go and tuck you in. Do you need any water, or the toilet?" he asked.

Scott shook his head, and Lestrade managed to stand up, turn around and lose the sheet in order to do up his jeans. He looked at Mycroft apologetically. "Back in a minute," he said softly, before scooping up the sleepy boy in his arms, and pulling the door to behind him.

Mycroft listened to the gentle murmur of voices in the hallway and slid his hand down to his still half-hard cock, sighing.

 

Lestrade settled Scott back into bed, pulling his Ben 10 duvet up over his chest. "What was the dream about?" he asked, pushing strands of dark hair away from Scott's face.

"Bad people," the small voice replied. "They wanted to take you away from me," he continued, sniffing.

Lestrade leant over and kissed his forehead. "That's not going to happen. I'm right in the next room, not going anywhere. Okay?"

Scott didn't react, just looked down, to where Lestrade's hand was resting on the covers.

"W's Mycroft hurting you? Sounded like he was hurting you," he finally said.

Lestrade smiled. "No, he wasn't. Mycroft's nice, he wouldn't ever hurt anyone. You know that really, don't you?"

Scott nodded slowly.

"Good. Now you go back to sleep, good boy."

Lestrade stayed where he was, kneeling by the small bed, watching the peaceful expression, and then, after a few minutes, he stood silently and headed for the door.

"Daddy!"

He dropped his hand from the doorknob and turned back. "Right here, Tiger."

"Don't want you to go," he said. "Can I sleep in your bed?"

Lestrade sighed. "Mycroft's in my bed, Scotty. I'm not sure there's room for all of us."

There was the start of a muffled sob, so he quickly walked back to the bed. "Hey, hey, no need for that. I'll just stay here, okay? I'll be right here."

He sat on the floor, head rested back on the wall, waiting for the child to fall asleep once more, imagining what he might do with Mycroft when he finally got back into the bedroom – providing, of course, Mycroft was still awake.

 

At around six in the morning, Mycroft awoke to an empty bed, rubbed his eyes, stretched, and headed to the kitchen. He made two mugs of coffee, then silently pushed open the door to Scott's room, seeing his lover slumped to one side, leaning against the bed and the wall in an awkward position, wearing just a pair of soft jeans.

"Gregory," he said, so softly he doubted he could even be heard.

But Lestrade opened his eyes, wincing as he moved. Then he spotted Mycroft and the two steaming mugs. He smiled, staggering to his feet, finding more aches and pains as he did so.

"Come on," Mycroft said quietly, sliding his hand up and down the curve of Lestrade's back, once Lestrade had relieved him of one of the mugs.

Ten minutes later he was gently stroking his hands over Lestrade's cricked neck and sore, cold, muscles, kissing the back of his neck, sliding his palm down to squeeze a firm buttock, hoping Lestrade would relax enough to fall back asleep, until a decent hour for a lazy weekend morning.

Then the door swung open and a small blur ran into the room.

"Daddy! Can we go to the park?" Scott asked, launching himself onto the bed, managing to land an elbow in the small of Lestrade's back, then scrambling up, a sharp knee in Lestrade's thigh.

Lestrade sighed into his pillow. "Ask Mycroft."

Two large brown eyes – the very image of his father's – turned to Mycroft. And Mycroft found himself just as powerless against the five-year-old versions as he was against the forty-five year old ones.

"The park sounds wonderful," he said, smiling.

He ignored the groan from Lestrade-the-elder and concentrated on the smile of pure joy from Scott.


End file.
